


Take My Whole Life, Too

by AWorldOfNonsense (Buildnganempire)



Series: A Loose Conglomeration [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Implied Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buildnganempire/pseuds/AWorldOfNonsense
Summary: It's the night before Emma's wedding and it doesn't exactly go according to plan.





	Take My Whole Life, Too

**Author's Note:**

> I figured that with the last one shot, I should make it up to you with something fluffy/hopeful!
> 
> WARNING: This DOES include CaptainSwan as a relationship. I didn't want to tag it as a relationship because I don't want any CS nonsense on my story. However, he's not actually IN this story, at all, even. DEFINITELY a Swan Queen story. So take yourself elsewhere if you want to complain about it.

It is the eve of the first wedding that Storybrooke has ever hosted and nearly all of the small town’s residents are packed into the auditorium at Town Hall. Usually, Town Hall’s auditorium is reserved only for town meetings and formal town-related gatherings. However, when the subject came up of where to host a gathering that included nearly the entire town, the only place fit per fire code regulations was the auditorium.

The evening started off with a rehearsal of tomorrow’s wedding ceremony and had taken place at the docks, as would the actual wedding. Then the wedding party paraded down Main Street to Town Hall to a feast worthy of royalty as if this were the actual wedding reception (to which everyone in town was also invited). It hadn’t made a bit of sense to Emma why there had to be two parties - this pre-wedding shindig _and_ the reception - but she had gone along with it because it seemed important. Truth be told, she has gone along with almost everything because it seemed important to her parents, who had planned the entire wedding on her behalf. Emma would not have bothered with half of the decor her mother had orchestrated. In fact, she never envisioned herself getting married in the first place. Then Killian asked and she hadn’t the heart at the moment to tell him that she didn’t exactly believe in the institution. She thought that she would eventually have the discussion with him, but when Snow had found out about the engagement, there was no stopping the wedding planning. Everyone, for the most part, was simply ecstatic for them. In the last week, they had gotten so many presents delivered to her house that she had to shove them all in the basement until she could open them and sort it out.

The thought of it all made her cringe. Emma hadn’t even gotten around to asking Killian to move in yet. She wasn’t too keen on sharing the space she already shared with her son part-time and didn’t want to consider what it would look like with another person added to their daily schedule. So she had ignored it in hopes of them never having to have a discussion. Maybe Killian would just come over one day and never leave. Not that Emma was particularly fond of that option either, but it made her feel more at ease than having a discussion about it. Lately she found herself opting not to talk about things for fear of saying something she may regret later. She convinced herself that it was simply nerves over the wedding and that when everything settled she would be back to feeling like herself again.

The only problem is, Emma isn’t so sure what she is supposed to do about the sinking feeling in her stomach every time she even looks at her son’s other mother. She isn’t sure where it even came from but it started around the time Killian proposed and is still festering now. At first, she thought that maybe it was nerves related to not wanting to discuss with her co-parent how Killian would fit into Henry’s life. But the more she considered that notion, the more she discredited the reasoning. She and Regina were best friends and having difficult conversations was nothing new to them. To test her theory, she had invited Regina over for dinner one night that Henry was with his grandparents and broached the subject. It had been awkward and Regina hadn’t wanted to stay much longer than to eat dinner but no threats of death were uttered. The feeling hadn’t gone away as hoped.

As Emma looks across the room, toward where she knows her brunette friend is at the moment, the feeling surfaces stronger than ever. Determined not to let whatever cold feet she is getting ruin her night, Emma shakes her hands out and marches across the space. She catches Regina’s questioning eyes about halfway there and tries to smile, to let her know that her stride isn’t _angry_ determination, but from Regina’s responding frown she gathers that it might have come off as a grimace instead. Nevertheless, she persists, rubbing suddenly sweaty palms on the thighs of her slacks. The slacks had been the one concession Snow had allowed just for Emma. She had been ‘permitted’ to wear whatever she felt like to any of the other festivities, but to the wedding she would be in some white, taffeta-laden monstrosity that she had barely been able to stomach looking at, much less put on. It made all of the dress fittings quite exhausting. And it makes her want to throw up just thinking about having to put it on again tomorrow morning. Tonight though, Emma had chosen an off-white tuxedo, a la Cate Blanchett, and is feeling really good about the decision if the looks she has been getting all evening are any indication of how attractive she looks in it.

“Regina.” She breathes the name once she reaches her destination, stopping short to avoid skidding into the Mayor.

“Emma.” Regina’s lip curls up in the corner, smirking as if something is particularly amusing about the greeting.

“Would you like to,” Emma gestures toward the side of the room that is a makeshift dance floor, “dance?”

“Oh.” Brown eyes flutter toward the dance floor and then Henry, before settling back on Emma. “To this?”

Her mother, with the help of Henry, had made a five hour long playlist on her iPod, which is currently hooked up to the speakers normally reserved for assisting someone with a microphone during town meetings. The unfortunate reality of Snow White and a teenager being responsible for music is that the playlist is mainly a hodgepodge of love songs interspersed with today’s pop music. Sure, it isn’t ideal but it was what had come out of her mouth the moment she had opened it in front of Regina so that is what she is going with now.

“I know it’s not like the best or anything but yeah, to this.” And then she second guesses herself. “I mean, if you aren’t busy.”

Regina looks around her immediate vicinity, noting the absence of anyone, or anything, else around her. “Well, it looks like my schedule just cleared up. Lead the way, Miss Swan.”

A part of Emma thinks she says the name because she won’t be able to after tomorrow. But she doesn’t want to think about that or any other reason right now so she grabs for Regina’s hand and starts to make her way across the room. It’s an odd feeling, Emma thinks, holding Regina’s hand for a purpose other than to perform magic. But she doesn’t want to think about that either so she holds tighter and strides more purposefully. She scans the dancing crowd with her eyes to find the perfect spot. Not in the middle so as to invite surrounding dancers to take notice. Nor somewhere on the outskirts so as to invite the entire rest of the town to gawk. But somewhere among the other dancers who are having too much fun to pay much attention to who is dancing next to them.

It isn’t until she’s got Regina standing in front of her that she realizes she doesn’t really know how to dance to this music. It’s too fast to slow dance but too slow to show off any moves she had picked up prior to coming to Storybrooke. She isn’t even sure if she remembers any dance moves she might have had back then anyway. It seems like another life to her at this point. So she settles for an awkward hips/shoulders combo that half of the other people on the floor have settled into as well. Regina, for her part, seems to be a lot more in tune with beat of the music than almost everyone else around them. Her hips sway in time with the rhythm and Emma finds herself mesmerized and spends most of the next song watching the navy material of her dress slink up and down olive thighs.

So mesmerized in fact that it took more than a few beats for Emma to realize two things: Regina had stopped moving and the song’s tempo had drastically slowed. She could feel the tips of her ears heat up and quickly she averts her eyes to the people around them already paired up and moving to the new song. They settle back on Regina a moment later and she offers her hand.

“Emma?” To be fair, Emma hadn’t asked anything, simply held her hand out and maybe that’s why it causes Regina some confusion.

“Just one dance?” Sure, it isn’t the best way to clarify what she wants, and she isn’t even sure she only wants _one_ dance. But Emma knows that in that moment, what she wants more than anything else, is to have Regina in her arms.

A soft, warm hand slides into her proffered one and it is all the consent Emma needs to slide her other hand around Regina’s waist. Using the arch of the smaller woman’s lower back Emma pulls her close enough that their cheeks touch as she begins to sway them back and forth to the beat. Emma closes her eyes and gets so into the feel of the warm softness of Regina in her arms that she only barely recognizes that she’s also softly singing right into Regina’s ear. _Take my hand, take my whole life too_.

“Emma.” This time her name is whispered and wet-sounding and Emma pulls back just enough to look Regina in her watery eyes.

She can’t stand the feeling it causes so she pulls closer, eradicating any space between the two and holds on. It’s in that moment Emma knows exactly what that sinking feeling she’s had for months is. It hits Emma like a ton of bricks and her fingers grasp and pull at the back of Regina’s navy blue dress, the fabric bunching in her fist, as she turns her head right into the curve of her best friend’s neck. This isn’t a song you should be dancing to with your best friend. Nor is it a song to be sung softly to them as you hold them in your arms. Emma knows that _now_ , but really feels like she should have come to this conclusion any point before the night before her wedding. Her stomach lurches at the way Regina is gripping her in return. The hand around the back of her neck is now fisting locks of blonde hair and holding Emma in place as if Emma were intending to move away. And Emma knows Regina is going through a realization of her own. Or maybe she has known all along and was waiting for Emma to catch up. Months of interactions fly through Emma’s mind as she tries to figure out just what is happening right now.

“May I cut in?” Her father’s voice cuts her trip through memory lane short and she looks up at him, feeling Regina stiffen in her arms.

His deep blue eyes are soft on her and she knows that he knows what’s going on and is trying to give her an out if she wants it. Grateful as she is, she can’t take it right now. So Emma shakes her head. “No, but thanks.”

He nods and leaves them to it and she realizes now that it’s a different song that’s playing. But she doesn’t much care and it seems as though Regina hasn’t paid it much mind either from the way she’s still holding on and swaying to a beat that’s not this new one. Emma releases the dress material from her fist and runs a flat palm up and down Regina’s back instead. It’s soothing for both of them and comforting to Emma in a way she cannot yet comprehend. They stay this way for a long time, until Emma notices the people around them glancing their way one too many times. Her hand slides to Regina’s hip as she pulls back and the other moves their still interlaced hands between their bodies.

They’ve long mastered the art of talking only via their eyes so Emma bores hers into Regina’s. A million emotions are running through her right now but somehow she just knows that this is their moment. She wants to ask a thousand questions, has a hundred thoughts, but only one or two of them matter right now and somehow she’s asking the questions and relaying the thoughts without saying anything at all. And Regina just gets it, she must, because a smile starts blossoming on her face and she nods, ever so slightly. But Emma catches it. Emma _gets_ it. And a smile of her own appears on her face.

She waits another beat and then, “Yeah?”

And Regina’s smile lights up the whole room. “Yes.”

And just like that, Emma’s story is re-written.

Regina’s too.

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't catch the song, it's Can't Help Falling In Love (by Elvis, but also Ingrid Michaelson's rendition is pretty great).


End file.
